Emerald Eyes
by Rothelena
Summary: Jane and Lisbon get closer and closer after he returned from Las Vegas- and when his birthday draws near, she doesn't know what to give him... how good that he has a special wish for her to fulfill. Rated M! FLUFFY!


_This story happened because I absolutely wanted to write the (non-smutty!) ambulance scene- afterwards, I just let the story carry me away. It's rated M, but just a whole big ball of fluff, so don't be afraid. I was unsure about the category, so in the end, I chose Hurt/Comfort, because that's almost always right for my stories._

_It's not as smutty as the "Lost Bets Series", which is so filthy I only post the installments on my blog. This is a little tamer, but still rated M, so don't be fooled!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own "The Mentalist", and I don't make money from fan fiction._

**Emerald Eyes**

His hand was searching for hers, slowly sliding down her arm until finally he intertwined his fingers with hers, his skin cold and clammy.

She was so worried for him and wondered how she managed to keep her poker face, hoping she didn't look as scared as she truly was. His breath was shallow and panting, his face getting paler by the second, his lips trembling slightly, taking on a bluish hue. Shock, or was he bleeding somewhere?

Cars passed them by, raising dust all around them, filling the air with the noise of their blaring sirens. Lisbon stared at them, her insides tied up in knots, fear seeping into a full-fledged panic.

She breathed a sigh of relief when an ambulance was approaching, slowing down in front of them, two paramedics jumping out.

Lisbon felt Jane's pulse hammering in his wrist, his eyes were dark and fevered.

Internal bleeding, she thought, and felt her insides freeze over with fear.

"I don't need a doctor," he whispered, panting, "I'm fine."

"Please, Jane," she answered softly, smoothing her hand over his hair, her voice sounding as if it came from a great distance, "do it for me- just let them check you out at the hospital."

He closed his eyes and was about to let his head sink down onto the hard rock beneath him, but Lisbon pulled her hand from his and put her arm under him, holding him, cradling him against her chest.

"Don't move him too much, ma'am," the paramedic said, "don't worry, we take care of him."

Jane's arms tightened around her body, and she shushed him gently, caressing the side of his face with her fingers.

The paramedics did a preliminary examination, put him on an IV and went to get the stretcher.

Jane didn't acknowledge their presence in any way, he seemed to be at a far-away place, his eyes still closed, face pressed against her breasts. His breath warmed her skin, and she just wanted to hold him tighter, engulf him in her embrace, shield him from the world.

"He might have internal bleeding," the paramedic said next to her, "bruising is extensive, he got some serious kicks into the ribcage, so some might be fractured. We have to take him to the hospital. Will you be accompanying him, ma'am?"

Jane's hands tightened once more, clutching her even closer.

"Yes," she said breathlessly, "of course."

She pried Jane's arms open, as carefully as possible, staying close to him all the time, touching his face or taking his hand while he was loaded onto the stretcher and lifted into the ambulance. She sat down directly next to him in the car, and he was already searching for her, his hand groping almost frantically for hers in the short time it took her to fasten her seat belt.

She intertwined her fingers with his and used her free hand to tenderly stroke his hair, whispering to him to calm him down.

But Jane was calm, he was almost lethargic, his eyes firmly closed, his breath flat and shallow. Only the grip of his hand was as tight as if he never wanted to let her go.

"Lisbon," he croaked, "I think I'm going to be sick…"

The paramedic handed her a metal bowl and she held it beneath Jane's chin just when he started retching. He threw up only bile, he obviously hadn't eaten in quite a while, and her heart clenched in misery. Why hadn't he allowed her to be there for him? She gently brushed his hair away from his face.

"I'm sorry, Lisbon," he breathed when his stomach stopped lurching, "that's utterly disgusting, I'm sorry that you have to put up with this…"

"Shhhh," she whispered, "that's okay, Jane, don't worry about me now."

She fought the urge to kiss his cheek, to increase the contact, grab every opportunity to get even closer to him. The situation felt strange, almost surreal, she had never seen him like this, she felt dizzy with worry and fear, almost nauseous with the need to make him feel better.

If he died now, she would… no, she couldn't think like that now, she would get a nervous breakdown if she did, and she was of no use to him if she didn't remain on top of her game. He had some broken ribs, maybe he would need surgery, but that was it.

He would be fine eventually, and she could slowly nurse him back to health.

Jane opened his eyes, his lips forming her name, and she pressed his hand tighter, fighting back the tears that pricked the back of her eyes.

For him, she needed to be strong now.

Xxxxxxxxxx

He looked thin and frail in the hospital bed, but the agitation he always showed when he had to deal with Red John was back.

"We have to interview Loralei, Lisbon," he said urgently, "right now. I have to get out of here! Please, use your influence to get me out of this dreadful place, now."

A doctor approached them before she could answer, automatically addressing her since Jane had already proven that he didn't intended to be a nice little patient.

Lisbon got up.

"He's been lucky," the doctor said, "no internal bleeding, the ribs are only bruised, not fractured. He will be in quite a bit of pain over the next days, but in general, everything his fine. We would like to keep him here over night, just to…"

Behind her back, Jane snorted, undoubtedly already dressing.

"You won't be able to keep him here," Lisbon said with a shrug, "if you refuse to release him, he will simply pester everyone until you have to throw him out."

The doctor sighed.

"I thought as much. You will take care of him, agent Lisbon, and make sure he gets some rest?"

Lisbon looked at Jane. He was still pale and bruised, dark rings under his eyes from lack of sleep, the fading remains of his black eye standing out on his white skin.

"Yes, doctor," she said, "I'll take care of him."

Xxxxxxxxxx

After the interview, she was almost surprised that she wasn't more pissed at him for sleeping with the enemy. Instead, she felt eerily calm, moving as if in trance, her feelings in secret uproar. She swallowed pain and hurt and soldiered on, it was what she did best, and damn- he needed her.

She would do what was needed. Business as usual.

She found him in the breakfast area, making tea, the familiar noises soothing her upset mind. He was back. And it felt good in itself, there didn't have to be more, did it?

She swallowed.

She wanted to tell him to take it easy, lie down for a while, take some rest, for god's sake. But she didn't really know what to say, words didn't come to her, so she just stood there, looking at him as if he were the most precious, wonderful thing she had ever seen. And yes- in a way, he was. And had always been.

"Do you want a cup of tea, too, Lisbon?" he asked without turning, sensing her presence.

"Sure," she said, her voice sounding hoarse and cracked when it had been fine only minutes before. She coughed.

She didn't ask about his night with Loralei, didn't know how to bring it up, and he didn't volunteer any information at first, so in the end she stayed silent, alone with her confused feelings.

Jane sat down at one of the round tables, placing two cups of tea on the table. She sat down opposite him, and he immediately grabbed her hand, wrapping his fingers around hers before he calmly sipped his tea.

She looked at their joined hands, her throat tight all of a sudden.

"I didn't feel anything, you know," he said ,"I was surprised I could function under those circumstances." He pressed her hand tighter. "Don't let her get to you, Teresa. If she manages to estrange us, she has won. You're the only strength I have left- Loralei is alone in here, but I have you. Don't leave me, yes?"

She brushed her fingers over his cheek and nodded. It couldn't come as a surprise, she had always helped him, had always stood by him no matter what.

"You should take a nap, Jane," she said, "a very extended nap. It's late, and you had a rough day."

His fingertips stroked her knuckles. His skin was so smooth, even his fingers were unbelievably soft.

"In your office?" he asked quietly, taking another sip of his tea.

"If you want that, sure," she answered.

And he smiled at her for the first time since they had returned from the hospital, his dangerous, full-fledged killer smile, warming her all over until she was certain she glowed from inside and everybody could see it when he just looked close enough.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Lisbon felt so tired she couldn't see straight and for a moment she allowed her head to sink down onto her crossed arms, resting just for a fraction of a…

She rose quickly, blinking to clear her mind.

Her gaze wandered to Patrick Jane's peaceful form, sleeping on her couch, wrapped up in one of her blankets.

She sighed.

It had been three weeks since he had returned to the CBI, and still her couch was the only place he would sleep. He would walk into her office at some time during the night, throw the cushions on the floor to have more room, lie down and wait for her to tuck him in. She would cover him with a warm comforter from his chin to his toes, stroke his hair and press a soft kiss on his temple before she returned to her desk to continue working.

Problem was, if he lay there like this, she somehow couldn't go home, couldn't leave him. So she stayed, stubbornly, falling asleep in her chair at some point in the early morning, her head resting awkwardly on her arms or the keyboard of her computer.

She was utterly exhausted, and after three weeks, it started to show.

She took a glance at the watch. Eleven thirty p.m. - it was time to go home, dammit.

But she couldn't help it- she didn't want to go.

A part of her was still afraid he would vanish again, leave her cold and empty, missing him so much her whole body was a single, nerve-wrecking ache. Maybe next time, he wouldn't come back. She shuddered just thinking about it, and instinctively moved closer to him, walking over to the couch just to watch him for a minute, make sure he was safe, breathing peacefully.

But when she stood in front of him, he suddenly opened his eyes and lifted the blanket, extending his arm in silent invitation. She stared at him for a moment before she simply kicked off her shoes and slid into the space next to him, shivering when he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her as close as he could.

"Wake me at five?" she whispered.

He nodded.

"I will."

She hardly heard his words, for as soon as the warmth of his body against hers sank in, she was fast asleep.

Xxxxxxxxxx

He always had to smile when he looked at her.

Patrick Jane took another sip of tea, which was pleasantly hot and strong, still his second favorite source of comfort. The most favorite one sat behind her desk, filling out more of her tedious forms.

She looked far better since she slept in his arms every night, and he was sure the same was true for him. He felt a million times more sane, and his strength was returning fast. He had enough energy to take care of his appearance again, charm the female staff of the CBI, play mind games with suspects… and yes, sometimes with the team, too. Just for fun.

He had been surprised at first that she hadn't resisted his constant demand for physical closeness- he'd never seen her as the cuddly type. Then again, she had never hesitated to provide exactly what he needed- and he needed nothing more than her.

He'd had a lot of thinking time in Las Vegas, and at some point, alone in his shitty motel room at night, he had understood that it was too late for his lonesome ranger routine: he had fallen for her, fallen for his guardian angel, the woman who loved him despite his countless flaws, who had always supported him no matter what he did, what he was.

He had become lonely and cuddly, sleeping with a pillow pressed against his body, trying to fight the urge to see her, just once, to recharge his batteries after all the lonely nights, to make some harmless fun of her to feel an honest smile on his face.

But he hadn't relented, of course, he couldn't risk his plan for his sentimental cravings.

Now the situation was different: she was close to him again, physically close, he could smell her hair when they rode in the SUV together, flowery sweet, and her skin was so soft- he couldn't stop holding her hand, went for it every chance he got, and always wanted to squeal like a little boy when she touched his face, drove her fingers through his hair, brushed her knuckles over his cheekbones, put her palm against his jaw.

He was positively addicted to those little moments of touch, they kept him going, heightened his motivation for everything.

But sleeping next to her every night was like bathing in liquid chocolate: too sweet to be true.

At first he'd been awake for most of the night, listening to her breath, feeling her warmth against his body, savoring the feeling of utter rightness she evoked in him. In her arms he forgot every burden, everything hateful and despicable in his life, was nothing more but the only human being she actually liked to touch.

After some nights, he had started to fall asleep, resting more deeply and peacefully than he had in all those lonely years. In his dreams, he was free, the nightmares conquered by sweet fantasies in which no limits applied.

Sometimes, just sometimes, he acknowledged that deep down he wanted more, and when he was all alone in the attic on a quiet afternoon he allowed himself to touch his own body in places she wouldn't come near so far, dreaming of bolder touches, sinful pleasures.

He swallowed and closed his eyes, forcing his powerful mind to release the images his fantasies lured into light.

His eyes returned to her as soon as he had regained his self-control, drawn to his angel of safety, of protection, holding his heart in her hands like a bleeding, pulsating trophy.

She looked up and smiled at him, but he immediately saw the lines of worry around her eyes.

"Something bothering you, my dear Lisbon?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered with a sigh. "Do you realize it's your birthday in a week?"

He took another sip from his tea, swirling it around his mouth, thinking.

"In fact, I didn't," he lied, "why don't you just ignore it? I'm no party animal, you know."

"I want to give you something, Jane," she said, "but I don't know what. Money doesn't mean anything to you, material things don't interest you at all. So- is there something else you want? But I warn you: I can't cook. And I don't do needlework, so if you want a pullover with love in every stitch- forget it!"

He chuckled.

"Too bad- I'd have loved to see that."

He became thoughtful and silent for a moment, before he got up and walked out of her office on a vigorous stride. In fact- there was something he'd always wanted.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Lisbon sighed. Jane was strange today, but that was hardly news to her.

She hoped he would find something she could do for his birthday, she wanted to give him something that held meaning for him, something no one else could give him.

Her gaze wandered to the spot where he had just been sitting on her couch.

He was so much a part of her life that she sometimes wished she could hold him tighter, make him want to stay with her. Preferably forever.

She groaned. She was in this far too deep, but she had always known that Patrick Jane would change her life in every way imaginable. He was unpredictable, larger than life, a force of nature. Nothing around him could remain unaffected by him, he re-shaped everything.

He had certainly re-shaped her. Every fiber, every cell.

She had never even thought to be capable of feelings like this, this urgent, intense, all-encompassing love seemed like a fairy-tale taken from books, not a part of her tedious, down-to-earth reality. But here she was, Teresa Lisbon, too old to fall in love like a teenager, pining for a man who had proven a million times that he was a bad choice these days.

But she still loved him. She would fight for him to her last breath. Die for him, gladly. Without batting an eye.

She didn't have to like it, but that didn't make it less true.

Jane returned, and something had changed in his beautiful face. His light green eyes seemed bigger, more open, vulnerable. She knew that she would give anything to him, no matter what he wanted.

"I have something I always wanted," he said slowly and handed her a rather large, flat white box that seemed strangely familiar, "wear those for me on my birthday… not in the office, of course, but in the evening. I'll take you somewhere special, to a place where they fit."

She opened the box and gasped.

Inside was an emerald necklace, the dark green gems encrusted in diamonds. HER necklace. He'd given it to her years ago, after winning huge amounts of money in a casino while they'd been investigating a case, and she had given the jewels back eventually, not able to accept them. She'd had no idea that he had kept them all those years.

She looked at him, feeling traitorous tears in her eyes.

"You kept it?" she whispered.

He nodded slowly, something indistinguishable in his eyes, a deep, profound sadness that had seeped so deep into his core that he could never get rid of it. Seeing it pained her to no end, every time.

"I bet it will still look lovely with your eyes," he said, "that's what I want for my birthday, Teresa- I want you all for myself, just for one night. You don't have to do anything, just be there. And I want you to wear the necklace I bought for you. Please."

She nodded slowly.

She felt her love for him like a blazing fire deep inside her, scorching her guts. She was his.

She didn't have to like it. But it was still true.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Lisbon watched her reflection in the mirror and sighed.

She owned only one evening gown, which was black and strapless, and she felt awful inside it, alien, out of place.

This wasn't her, not at all, a stranger seemed to look at her from the silvery glass, someone she'd never wanted to be.

She couldn't bring herself to don some make-up, unsure of what it was Jane expected of her. Did he want her to turn into a sexy femme fatale? Damn, she was no seductress, she had been born a tomboy and not changed all that much over the years.

She didn't want to play games with him. She wanted him to accept her like she really was, her flaws, the tediousness he always complained about. It was all part of what she was. The gun. The paperwork. The love for him.

Even Saint Teresa.

She wasn't afraid that he could reject her- she was used to being pushed away, it only made her stronger to be on her own, self-sufficient. So if he didn't want her, she would survive.

What she couldn't do, was this- act a role that just wasn't her.

She fastened the emeralds around her neck, they felt cool and heavy on her bare skin, the frame of diamonds glittering in the low light.

With a sigh, she sat down in front of the window, brooding.

It took her a while to think of a solution, but when the doorbell rang she had made up her mind. She opened up firm and determined.

Damn, he looked good enough to eat. Dressed in his black tuxedo, his blond hair gleaming in the full moon's silver light, his pale skin looking smooth like silk. She saw him swallowing visibly. So he obviously liked what he saw, which was a start. She just hoped he would like the ending she had planned for them tonight.

"Happy Birthday, Jane," she said and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, not finding the courage to try anything bolder at this very moment, "can I drive the car, please? Please!"

"You want to drive in that spectacular dress?" he chuckled, "Isn't this my job since I'm the gentleman taking you out?"

She tried to make puppy dog eyes at him and was sure she wasn't half as good at it as he was, but he seemed to feel magnanimous tonight and nodded, smiling softly. His fingers brushed over the necklace, tracing the shape of the gems.

"Okay, Teresa," he said, "who could say no to such a beautiful woman? You can drive the car if you dare to kiss me square on the lips."

Lisbon shuddered, but went on tiptoe, closing her eyes before she claimed his mouth with hers. His lips were warm and infinitely soft, and she felt like a match catching fire, burning out in its quest for a limit to its heat. She would have loved to deepen the kiss, use her tongue on him, sample more of his exquisite taste, but he pulled back far too early, and she was surprised to see a slight blush on his cheeks.

They walked the short distance to her car in silence, Jane opened the driver's door for her, making her feel like a precious princess.

She sighed and tried to relax while he walked around the car and got in on the passenger side.

She just hoped she wouldn't push him too far and destroy all the trust he had in her, it meant everything to her, was the most important thing she had gained all her life.

"We're going to the Four Seasons in Santa Barbara." He said, and she put the car into gear and turned the key, finding a strange kind of peace in the low hum of the car.

They spent the way in more silence, but Jane put his hand on her thigh, she could feel the heat through the thin fabric of her dress which she had bunched up around her legs to make driving easier. Jane's fingers slid beneath her skirt teasing her naked skin.

"I just need the comfort," he whispered, and she became scared.

He seemed so vulnerable, so lonely since he had returned to Sacramento, she was afraid to hurt him, dig into flesh so soft she could do irreparable damage with just a single touch. His shell seemed cracked, and when they were alone, he didn't bother with the mask he showed the rest of the world. For the first time, she saw his anguish in its unadulterated form, and it hurt her almost as much as him.

"It's your birthday," she said with a smile and swallowed the sweet endearment she had wanted to add.

When she finally should have taken the road to the Four Seasons she drove in the other direction instead, taking the next turn to the beach.

Jane didn't say anything, but she felt his eyes on her, watching her intently. She had no doubt that he knew she followed some kind of plan, these things never escaped his attention. She was thrilled that he hadn't stopped her anyway, had just allowed her to take the lead. His trust humbled her every time, especially since she knew that he had a hard time letting people in since Red John had destroyed his life.

She stopped the car on a secluded strip of beach, framed by palm trees, far enough from the road and civilization to remain undetected for tonight.

For a moment, both were absolutely silent, staring into the moonlit night.

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked eventually.

"No," she said, "You?"

"Not at all. So… what are we doing here?"

She took a deep breath, let her head fall back against the headrest.

"I don't want to see people tonight, Jane. I know it's your birthday, but I don't want to smile and eat and make polite conversation. I'm sorry."

When she looked into his eyes, she saw that no explanations were necessary, that he well understood those feelings of rawness and ineptness, didn't truly ask for anything but her, her alone.

She opened the door and got out, fetching two blankets from the trunk while he left the car.

He stretched his arms out far over his head, causing his shirt to slip from his waistband, and she found the strip of bare skin that was showing unbelievably sexy. Heat washed all over her, and she felt the wetness on her thighs, her sex throbbing with arousal. Well, so maybe she would suffer if he rejected her- she had to risk it anyway, there was no turning back now.

He shed his jacket and dropped it in the sand while she spread out one of the blankets, close to the gentle surf of the ocean, so peaceful and quiet, the sounds of the crashing waves hardly a hum over the pulsating hunger her body couldn't stop feeling.

She stood in the middle of the blanket, her long gown flowing around her legs. She felt uncomfortable and exposed, couldn't wait to get rid of it, feel free again. When she looked at him, she found him staring at her, his expression half curiosity, half fear. He guessed what she planned to do, and she wasn't surprised that he was scared. She was, too.

She touched the heavy necklace before she straightened and looked him square in the eyes.

"I'm not like this, Jane," she said softly, her voice trembling slightly with sheer excitement, "I hate dressing up, hate dining in luxury hotels, can't stand playing a role that's so foreign to me I want to puke. But I want to give you what you wanted for your birthday. So, what if I wear the necklace for you- and nothing else?"

She opened the hooks on her dress and let it slide down her body, standing in front of him completely naked. Except for the necklace, glittering in the silver shine of the moon.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Jane had almost known that something like this would happen, but no matter how much part of him had wanted to… he hadn't been able to stop her.

She was perfectly, flawlessly beautiful in his eyes, he'd never met a woman who had affected him the way she did. Her creamy skin beckoned him to touch it, kiss it, let his fingers and lips slide over every single inch until she glowed with pleasure. She was so small, her petite frame just a tasty handful even for a not especially tall guy like him.

He released a shuddering breath, wanting to avert his eyes. He couldn't.

Conflicting emotions washed all over him- fear for her life. Red John was chasing him as much as vice versa, what would he do if he learned that Lisbon was so much more to him than just a close friend?

Elation. Because this was what he had dreamed about those last years, the fulfillment of his fantasies, a reward after all the time he had spent losing, paying, suffering. Wondering if he shouldn't simply die, if the endless hunt was worth it.

She had been his only bright spot all those years.

But he also felt guilt, because this would be different from what he'd had with Loralei. This wouldn't be a cold-blooded use of his body to get what he had always wanted most- Red John.

This would be just her and him. This would be out of love.

He had sworn his love to one woman, and part of him wasn't ready to let go, wasn't able to overcome the feelings of failure, betrayal and pain.

His traitorous body reacted all on its own, without any manipulation of his mind. When he'd had sex with Loralei, he'd willed his body to harden, to function. This time, he so wanted to stay limp and useless, but his body decided for itself. It wanted Teresa Lisbon like it had never wanted another woman, and the realization shamed him like nothing else could.

Bile rose in his throat.

She looked down, no doubt guessing his hurtful thoughts, she'd become that perceptive with him. Her long dark hair fell over a face, hiding it from his view, and the fact that she was so sweet and honest, not a hot seductress intent on devouring her prey, but a woman who was capable of a love so strong and unconditional it awed him, endeared her to him even more.

His own love throbbed inside him like a festering wound, reaching out to her, urging him to do something.

She was so small, so fragile, and suddenly, holding her was paramount, her closeness everything he wanted, needed, and there was no way he could have stopped what he did.

He walked over to her and pulled her close, so close she was gasping, but he couldn't release her, didn't feel close enough. His hands roamed her body, and he wanted to be as naked as she was, fast, his clothes felt rough and chafing, hurting him.

"I love you," he whispered urgently, and in this moment, he felt himself letting go, his inner resistance fading, bursting, and he knew what to do, knew that he just couldn't live without her, that everything he was had found its expression in HER, only in her.

His feelings for her weren't his enemy. They were everything that made him human.

"I can't catch him if I become like him." He whispered in a moment of sudden clarity.

"I hope I can catch him for you," she breathed into his ear, "every night I wish that I will get him. I want to hand you his head on a silver platter for all he has done to you."

"No," he croaked, "I don't want my chase to taint you, Lisbon. I don't want my hunt to become yours."

"It became mine when I started to love you, Jane," she said, pressing her lips on the spot beneath his ear, "You wouldn't believe how much I hate him for your sake. I would do anything to free you, Jane. Anything."

"Teresa." His voice sounded strangled, almost close to tears, "I'm not a good man. I don't deserve you, dear."

"Too bad," she said softly, "because I'm what you get."

She kissed his jaw, the side of his neck, letting her tongue play with his earlobe. Every touch, every lick was designed to drive him crazy, his whole body shaking from the force of his arousal, hands twitching against her naked skin. She was so smooth and warm, silky soft to his touch.

"I want you," he groaned, "god, I want you so much…"

He needed to be naked, now, so he ripped at his clothes, tearing seams in his urge to undress. He hissed sharply when she touched his bare flesh, her tiny hands stroking, kneading, learning his texture like a song she had always known in her heart only to finally understand its meaning with all her senses.

He pushed his tongue into her mouth, greedily sampling her taste, wanting to embed her in his essence for all times.

His skin burned when she touched it, her fingers unbuckling his belt, unzipping his fly before they wandered inside his underwear, touching his length, so hard her gentle stroke came across as almost painful.

His desire for her shot into the sky like a rocket, his whole body aflame with lust, his need so strong he wanted to scratch his flesh bloody if he couldn't have her right now.

"Teresa," he croaked, wanting to stop her, both of them, tell her that they couldn't do this, but her name came out like a song of worship, fueling the lust between them until neither seemed to be able to breathe.

He lowered her to the blanket, impatiently getting rid of the rest of his clothes, until he was as naked as she was, the warm night air brushing over his fevered skin.

He gasped when she spread her legs for him, brought his swollen cock into contact with her wet flesh, so ready just for him, and he got the heady feeling of triumph, spreading through his core, she was his, he had won her, she loved him and him alone. He roared with satisfaction while her hands slid over his body, igniting him until he burned with want, his mouth devouring hers as if she was the only nourishment that could keep him alive.

She sucked on his tongue, and he almost lost it then and there, her hand sneaked to his length, her fingers wrapping around it, unable to span his girth. She started to rub, tormenting him beyond words, and he ripped his lips from hers to gulp more air into his lungs, gasping from the mind-blowing sensations coursing through his body.

He knew she wanted to watch him, wanted to see him lose control, this final moment of capitulation, so he looked at her, his lips forming inaudible words while he got closer and closer, the taut skin over his cock prickling with the rapid approach of orgasm, his pre-come providing lubrication that made it even easier for her to drive him mad. Her little fingers slid over his slippery length, teasing all the right spots until his eyes fluttered shut and he came, came in a flood of hot seed, running over her fingers, dripping onto her stomach, her chest, the sight alone made him orgasm even harder. He came until his stomach muscles hurt, until he almost collapsed and rolled to his back like a boneless mass of utter satisfaction.

He tried to catch his breath, savoring the rush of air against his hot skin.

Lisbon climbed on top of him, straddling his hips, and it felt so wonderful he smiled tenderly at her. She watched him thoughtfully, her fingers playing with his hair as if he was a favorite new toy and she had finally gained the right to touch it all she wanted. He enjoyed the sensations her fingers evoked on his scalp while they drove through his curls, and he felt his cock harden against her core.

He moaned when she rubbed up against him, and she kissed his lips as if she wanted to swallow the sound, teasing his mouth with her nimble little tongue until he was completely hard again, pushing his hips against hers in his nameless need for her.

Lisbon framed his face with her hands, her skin so soft against his, her caress so tender he closed his eyes in pleasure, waiting for her lips to devour his mouth. Her kiss was hot and passionate, and he drank her taste like a junkie in desperate need of his next fix.

He played with her until every brooding thought was gone from his mind, her shallow, excited breath the only focus he needed.

He clutched her tiny frame to his much larger body and rolled her underneath him. Her hands roamed his body, her fingernails scratching his skin, sending jolts of ecstasy all through his system.

He shuddered and gasped, reacting so strongly the world blurred around the edges, but he couldn't have stopped her to save his life. At this very moment, she was everything he lived for, and without her, he would wilt like a cut flower.

He held her like a drowning man, shivering against her tiny body, inhaling the addictive scent of her hair.

"Don't worry, love," she whispered into his ear, and in this moment she was so strong she could easily lift his world off the axis.

She spread her legs and lifted her hips, pushing up against him.

He raised his head and looked at her, touching the exquisite jewels around her neck, the cool gems warmed by her skin.

"If I do this now, it's forever, Teresa," he whispered breathlessly.

"It's always been forever." She answered, "long before we dared to say the words, Jane."

He watched her face contort with pleasure when he pushed inside her, she was wet and hot, but he was huge, had to stretch her far to breech her final barrier.

It was a nerve-wrecking sensation, he heard her cry out in ecstasy when he slowly filled her, entering her tight little body, driving into her to the hilt.

His hips slammed against hers, a wet, sexy sound that made him come undone, he started to move immediately, deep, slow thrusts to heighten their arousal, making them gasp, he pulled out completely before he pushed in as deep as he could, over and over again, until she begged him to take her harder, give her more.

For a moment he placed his hands against her cheeks , breathing into her face, dizzy with desire, his hardness twitching inside of her.

"I love you." He whispered, feeling the truth like a splinter deep inside his heart. He had fallen, and he was tired of fighting his feelings. He was alive for the first time in years.

He pushed up on his arms, groaning when she wrapped her legs around his waist, bringing him so deep into her his cock nudged her cervix. It felt mind-blowing, his whole length engulfed in her moist heat, squeezed between her silken walls. He would have loved to stay like this forever, but the sweet, needy little sounds she made urged him on, adding to the burning sensation on his shaft.

He pulled back almost completely before he rammed in to the hilt, giving her fierce, hard thrusts in rapid succession, making her small body bounce with the force of his strokes.

"More," she begged, "please, Jane, more!"

He picked up speed effortlessly, slamming into her over and over again, one hand holding her hips to keep her still for his onslaught.

She squirmed beneath him, her delighted cries loud and sexy to his ears, her head thrown back in pleasure.

He was pounding into her now, her fingers digging into his shoulders, his biceps, he was gritting his teeth to stop himself from exploding like a rocket, but it was unbelievably difficult with her hips pushing against his to meet his thrusts, heightening his delirious arousal with intense, grinding movements.

The friction was enormous, highly sensitive nerves screaming every time he powered his cock into her snug, satin-soft sheath, cradling him in its perfect heat.

His body soared with bliss.

He felt it the exact moment she gave in, her muscles contracting around him until he was reduced to grunts and incoherent syllables, his mind swimming with lust. Every breath was searing his lungs, his hips bucking against hers, unable to keep his hard rhythm. He threw his head back , roaring like a lion when he found release. His seed shot into her in sharp jets of warmth, spurt after spurt filling her core, making her shudder with delight.

He emptied his body in large, heavy squirts until he could give no more, her sharply clenching muscles milking him dry, demanding the last of his essence. He collapsed on her chest, whimpering when he pulled out of her in the process, every sensation too much for his over-sensitive shaft.

It took a while until he was able to move, rolling to his side to spare her his weight. He pulled her closer, sighing when she pressed her face against his chest, caressing the skin with her warm breath and small, sweet kisses.

He covered both of them with the second blanket, creating a cocoon of comfort and safety, a place where they didn't need to act, didn't need to play roles they were so tired of.

His fingers toyed with the emeralds around her neck.

"Keep them this time, will you?" he said, "They've always been yours, Teresa. I still remember how I bought them. I didn't care for all the other things I purchased that day, but these spoke to me almost as much as your eyes did. I kept them to remind me of you when I was sad and lonely. But from now on, you'll be there to remind me yourself, won't you?"

His eyes were soft and pleading, and she reached up to touch his beloved face, trace the lines on his smooth skin. She knew every single one by heart, could have drawn him with her eyes closed.

"I will." She whispered, kissing his jaw, rubbing her lips against the slight blond stubble.

They were silent for a few blissful moments, reveling in each others closeness, toasty warm in the cooling night air.

"We should go home before we fall asleep," Lisbon said eventually, drawing patterns on his back with her fingertips.

"Let's sleep here for a while." He breathed against her hair. "I'm not ready to leave yet."

She looked at him, his eyes clearly visible in the bright moonlight, shining like diamonds caught in the glow.

She knew he was scared, but he just bowed down and kissed her, his lips whispering against hers, his tongue tracing the seam of her mouth until she opened up for him, allowed him to intrude.

"We're in this together now," he sighed when he finally broke the kiss, "I'm sorry, Teresa. I can't let you go, no matter how much I should, angel. I love you. Forgive me."

She smiled.

"I'm good at doing that." She said.

He groaned and lifted her leg over his hips, sliding into her in a single, deep stroke, every thought of sleep gone from his mind in an instant.

"I love you." She gasped, and that was the last that was spoken for quite a while.

**The End**

_Hope you liked it! My next fic will be a new installment for the "Lost Bets Series" and can only be found on my blog (because it ABSOLUTELY exceeds the M-rating)- it will involve a POOL TABLE :D. Afterwards… well, I'll see where my muse wants to go :D. Thank you so much for reading!_


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